


kiss me on the mouth (set me free)

by liliapocalypse



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Flirting, Getting Together, M/M, Making Out, skts makes out in 2k words: the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:22:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29635965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liliapocalypse/pseuds/liliapocalypse
Summary: There’s only two hours left until Kiyoomi’s first on-screen kiss.Everything is fine at first glance. Kiyoomi is performing as expected, and so is Atsumu. Really, everything is going great.Maybe except for one thing.Because Kiyoomi can’t look at Atsumu in between takes.Kiyoomi hasn’t been kissed his whole life, and there he is, two hours away from his first on-screen kiss. Luckily, Atsumu is there to do something about it.— SakuAtsu Fluff Week 2021 · Day 9: Alternate Career
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 22
Kudos: 229
Collections: SakuAtsu Fluff Week 2021





	kiss me on the mouth (set me free)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from [Troye Sivan's Bite](https://open.spotify.com/track/4lvJOtynZbT08pZO10YoOv?si=9dhedVT1QJ6qWDl378DPWg). 
> 
> Also tiny disclaimer (I guess?). I'm not in the showbiz industry, so if there are any inconsistencies, that's probably why haha. (This fic really is just an excuse to make SakuAtsu make out, okay.)
> 
> This is also my third fic for SakuAtsu Fluff Week 2021 for Day 9: Alternative Career. Enjoy!

There’s only two hours left until Kiyoomi’s first on-screen kiss.

Everything is fine at first glance. Kiyoomi is performing as expected, and so is Atsumu. The director is not giving more cues than usual. There are minimal delays. The shoot is running smoothly. Really, everything is going great. 

Maybe except for one thing. 

Because Kiyoomi can’t look at Atsumu in between takes.

The director’s voice rings as he screams “Cut!” yet it does nothing to cut through the tension that remains long after the cameras stop rolling. The air is thick, almost palpable, pressing on them like a vice grip. 

Kiyoomi immediately drops his character, unwilling to carry any more thoughts and emotions than he already has. He does not miss Atsumu’s raised eyebrow as Kiyoomi breaks eye contact, turning away so fast like he’s been burned. 

Instead, he power walks his way to the hair and makeup trailer and slumps in front of the vanity table, heart racing in anticipation of the next 120 minutes.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, the door opens again and Atsumu walks in.

Atsumu pads his way towards his seat, Kiyoomi only a few paces away from him with brushes dabbing all assortments of products in his face.

They are 90 minutes away from having his first kiss filmed. 

The tension has seemingly followed them to the trailer, heavy despite the distance and the silence. 

“What’s wrong with ya?” He cuts his gaze towards his co-star scrolling leisurely through his phone and leaning against his chair as his make-up artist styles his unruly platinum locks. 

“What?” 

Atsumu quirks an eyebrow and points at him. “Yer more jittery than usual.” That’s when Kiyoomi notices his fingers obsessively flicking the corner of his script and his right leg jerking at a concerning speed. 

His limbs still at once and he lets out a long, deep breath before setting the script down on the vanity table. “It’s nothing.”

Atsumu hums, seemingly unconvinced, yet his gaze lingers. 

Atsumu and Kiyoomi have done a lot of scenes together at this point. They have read through lines that feel too personal, too  _ real _ , to say out loud. They have literally just hugged an unnatural amount just thirty minutes before, wrapping his arms around Atsumu repeatedly for a better take, a better angle, that it had become deceptively routine.

But somehow here, lit by the cloyingly bright bulbs bordering the mirror like a dozen spotlights, Kiyoomi feels the most vulnerable he’s ever been. 

He has always felt like Atsumu is watching him, studying him from afar. He can never be sure because he never catches Atsumu doing it, but now that he’s staring head-on, Kiyoomi feels pinned under his gaze.

Then Atsumu backs off, pries his eyes away, and turns back to his phone.

Well, maybe not.

* * *

Another 30 minutes pass in paralyzing silence. Then he hears the sharp whack of paper on wood and turns to see Atsumu facing him with one eyebrow raised. 

“Okay, something’s up. What is it, Omi-kun?”

Just as Kiyoomi is getting ready to spew some random excuse, Atsumu holds up a finger in his direction. “Don’t give me yer celebrity bullshit. We’ve been workin’ together long enough for me to know when you’re actin’ and when you’re not.”

His stare is resolute, firm. He’s seen this many times before: in interviews when a reporter has been particularly invasive, in paparazzi shots with a middle finger aimed towards the lens. It’s look that says he’s not taking anyone’s crap, not even Kiyoomi’s.

Kiyoomi puts the script down the table and braces himself to pry the truth from his gritted teeth. “I’m nervous.”

“‘Bout the kiss?” The nonchalance with which Atsumu says it makes Kiyoomi cringe, a stern reminder that  _ it’s just a kiss.  _ He shouldn’t be this worked up over it.

“We can tell ‘em to remove it if yer not comfortable with it, y’know.” Kiyoomi glances upward and meets his gaze. Concern is etched on his co-stars face, and the guilt only eats him up a bit more, gnawing at his insides.  _ Great. You made him worried over a petty thing. _

“No, I’m fine with the scene. It’s just that…” Kiyoomi rakes a hand through his hair in frustration. His voice would later come out soft, barely perceptible had Atsumu not been listening.

“I haven’t had my first kiss yet.”

Kiyoomi attempts to cover the blush creeping up his neck and to his cheeks by burying his face in his hands. When he peeks through his fingers, he catches Atsumu utterly amused, biting down a laugh. 

“Don’t make fun of me!” 

“I’m not!” Atsumu answers back, holding up his hands in mock surrender, a polar opposite of the shit-eating grin in his lips.

Kiyoomi is done. Damn the contract, he is walking out of this set. 

But at least Atsumu laughing at his expense makes it easier, somehow. 

Then Atsumu says something he did not expect to hear. “Is there anythin’ I can do to help you, then?”

He stares at Atsumu a second too long. Miya Atsumu truly is an enigma. Months into their shoot and he still cannot fully understand his co-star.

Kiyoomi waves a hand dismissively. “Nah, I’m fine.” A beat. “I just… I love this job. I didn’t spend so many years excruciatingly working my way up from extra, main cast, to lead if I didn’t.”

Kiyoomi throws his head back with a sigh. The dam has cracked and he can no longer stop it from flowing. “But I’ve already given up so much for it, ya know? My privacy, my peace of mind, and now my first kiss, too?”

And look, he  _ knows _ it’s not his job’s fault that, at 22, Sakusa Kiyoomi still hasn’t been kissed. Call him a sap, but he wanted it to happen naturally: a stolen kiss in a deserted high school classroom, maybe a heated makeout with the hottest guy on the dance floor.

But he had dropped out of school when he started acting, and becoming a household name made it difficult to go wild in clubs lest he wanted to end up on the tabloids. 

So the first kiss never came, and he never made a conscious effort to make it happen, his eyes too set on finally making it in his chosen field. There are always other goals to achieve: another TV show to be filmed, another film to be promoted.

Getting his first kiss seemed trivial amongst all that.

That is, until his first kiss is literally one hour away from being pried away from his grasp. 

So much for wanting it to happen naturally.

* * *

Having your first kiss memorialized for the sake of art sounds poetic. As an artist, the idea of it should thrill Kiyoomi.

But there are also the odds of his first kiss being left on the cutting room floor, of that first take being buried over countless others. It’s exactly the kind of PR crap that people will eat up, beating it into virality until it loses its meaning.

_ Yeah, no thanks _ .

“If that’s the case, lemme kiss you then.”

Kiyoomi furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “I  _ am _ kissing you later. That’s the point. That’s why I’m freaking out.”

“No,” Atsumu responds, standing up and pacing until he is leaning against Kiyoomi’s vanity table. “Here. Now. Let me kiss you, Omi-kun.”

His brain scrambles to comprehend the offer, his pulse racing too fast, raging in his ear. He lets out a strangled “What?” amidst the chaos in his head. 

“Ya can kiss me later in the set as scheduled, or ya can kiss me now. Here. No cameras, no people watchin’. Just us. Ya get to own  _ your _ first kiss. Not the media’s, not the viewers’. Just yours.” Atsumu cocks his head and crosses his arms, still staring intently at Kiyoomi. “Yer choice, Omi.”

The offer is  _ stupid _ . Why would he willingly kiss his co-star outside the set? Why should he even agree?

“Ya can see it as practice for later too, if ya want. Either way, you’re left with me. Take it or leave it, Omi-kun.”

Then Kiyoomi’s eyes fall down to Atsumu’s lips, glinting with lip balm against the lights. 

Kiyoomi stands up so fast his chair topples, grabbing Atsumu by the collar and bridging the gap between their lips.

The first thing Kiyoomi thinks is: Atsumu’s lip balm is strawberry-flavored.

The second: His lips are soft. Too soft.

The third: Atsumu is good.  _ Too _ good.

And there is Kiyoomi who has absolutely no idea what he’s doing, his limbs and lips too stiff and mind too disoriented to do anything else. 

Then Atsumu’s hands hold his hips and pull him closer. The contact kickstarts his pulse, and before Kiyoomi can even catch it, Atsumu tilts his head and his lips move.

Kiyoomi is so lost, so far gone. His lips are following Atsumu’s in a daze like it’s the only thing he knows how to do. Every split second of distance feels empty, feels  _ wrong _ , so he surges forward, chasing every point of contact, every brush of Atsumu’s lips. 

He has never been this glad to have been left with no choice before.

Kiyoomi has just gotten used to the rhythm when Atsumu moves his hands below his thighs and lifts him, forcing Kiyoomi to wrap his arms around Atsumu’s neck for balance. 

Atsumu sets him down on the vanity table, the glaring fluorescent lights framing him from behind. Kiyoomi stares in awe as he drinks the sight of Atsumu illuminated by the lights, awash by a glow that makes him look celestial, his eyes glinting with something unnameable and his lips parted and panting.  _ Wanting _ .

Maybe they both want this.

With his hands still around Atsumu’s neck, Kiyoomi pulls him in as Atsumu stumbles in between Kiyoomi’s parted legs until his thighs hit the table and then he leans in.

Whereas the first one was brimming with uncertainty, a slow push and pull as they navigate uncharted waters, this one is a raging storm. Hurried and persistent and glaringly present with every needy press of lips and with every lingering touch, Atsumu’s fingers now threading Kiyoomi’s hair and Kiyoomi’s skating down the planes of Atsumu’s back. Their movements are hasty, as though catching up with lost time.

Then Atsumu runs his tongue along Kiyoomi’s bottom lip, tugging it with his teeth and making Kiyoomi moan softly into Atsumu’s mouth. A tingle runs down his spine and to his now curling toes, legs hooking around Atsumu’s hips and pressing him closer.

Suddenly, Kiyoomi is lightheaded, his heartbeat too fast to be healthy, his lungs gasping for air only to get more Atsumu, Atsumu,  _ Atsumu— _

Kiyoomi pulls back slowly for air, resting his forehead against Atsumu’s as Atsumu combs through his hair, softly running the strands over his fingers. 

One of his hands moves to Kiyoomi’s cheek, thumbing his cheekbone with featherlight touches. Their breaths fan over their faces, lips still so close a tiny nudge will ensure another press, another peck. 

“Thank you,” Kiyoomi whispers. He doesn’t even know what for. The kiss? The offer? The consideration, the understanding? The newfound rumble in his chest?

Atsumu doesn’t answer. Not with words, but with the nudge Kiyoomi has been waiting for, slanting their lips in a quick, firm kiss.

Then another nudge, and another, and another. Fast and ever-so present, and something that they can no longer chalk up to practice or an offer to soothe a panicking co-star. They have long thrown their excuses out the window as the movement becomes deceptively routine, as natural as the kiss of the tides against the shore, the next one always a better take, a better angle. 

His first kiss—his second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, until Kiyoomi has lost count. All those kisses, gone.

No, saved. Kept for safekeeping.  _ Held _ by one Miya Atsumu. 

Kiyoomi won’t have it any other way.

“You can thank me by taking me out this Saturday.” 

Kiyoomi looks back at Atsumu—at Atsumu and the glint in his eye that Kiyoomi now knows of, its name sitting in his lips, tugged out of hiding by another pair of lips—and thinks:  _ They do want this _ .

This time, it’s Kiyoomi who leans in for a kiss. This one lingers, simmering like the changing of the wind. It’s light now. Charged still, but less suffocating and more thrilling, and if it takes his breath away, this time, it’s because he wants to. And god, does he want to, if it means Atsumu will kiss him again. 

“Is 7 PM okay?”

Thirty minutes later Kiyoomi will worry about this tousled hair later and his now plump, red lips that mirror Atsumu’s. 

Now, though, he wonders if people will know that he’s been there, his choice branded on Atsumu’s lips.

“For ya? I’m free anytime, Kiyoomi.”

He secretly, greedily, hopes it is. That first kiss is his. _Theirs_. Tucked away from prying eyes but also dizzyingly, exhilaratingly free.

**Author's Note:**

> * * *
> 
> Find me brainrotting about SakuAtsu 24/7 on [Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/liliapocalypse)
> 
> Also come scream at or with me on my [fic graphic](https://twitter.com/liliapocalypse/status/1363912076754780162?s=20) if that’s your thing!


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